


To Those Left Behind

by LadyHallen



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, xxxHoLic
Genre: Angst, F/M, Precognition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:27:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12104721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyHallen/pseuds/LadyHallen
Summary: Sakura knows the boy sleeping under the covers is not her son.OrEverything has come full-circle and the parents left behind must take steps to make sure the boy created to take their sons place would be fine.





	To Those Left Behind

Sakura knows the boy sleeping under the covers is not her son.

She exchanges a tentative look with Syaoran and is relieved when she sees the knowledge in his eyes too. She wasn’t sure he would remember their other son, but the blood of Clow running through his veins, no matter how diluted, gives him enough power. Enough to be a powerful sorcerer in his own right. Certainly more powerful than he was in her memories.

“He’s…” she tries to start and is unsurprised at how difficult it is to get the words out. “He’s not ours…”

A memory made from a wish, of time turned back and she shudders at the feeling. Memories like that always make her feel nauseous, and not only for the disassociation it gives her. Her mind is given memories of giving birth to a black haired boy that is a throwback to Syaoran’s ancestor, Clow while her body remembers giving birth to another boy.

“He’s ours,” Syaoran says firmly, resolutely. As sturdy as a tree and a mountain and his resolve has always been what she loves about him. “His soul…his magic and his existence was brought about by my other self. In essence, he is….”

In essence, he is the same, is what he would have said. Sakura understands what he means.

“My hands remember a different shape,” she whispers. She doesn’t know why she is uncertain. The pain of a mother is burning – lancing through her like a rod. She has just lost her son and gained another, along with a foreign host of memories that stand out in her mind, highlighted by the magic running in her veins.

“Your hands hold, no matter the shape. You will be fine. We will be fine,” Syaoran reassures her.

Her magic is powerful though, stronger than his and she knows that the twin-soul of their son will suffer much hardship unless they do something about it. It’s a relief to know that they _could_ do something about it, unlike their other son.

“His name,” she whispers, feeling her magic stirring deep inside her. “Will be Watanuki Kimihiro. You must bury his name, Syaoran. Bury his real name, lest that Puppetmaster find him and use him as he had used us.”

Syaoran nods. “We will tell him the truth?”

Sakura feels a tear drop at what will happen when they do. “Yes. And he will go to the Shopkeeper and make his own choice.”

The rustling of sheets takes their attention and her son’s twin-soul is stirring. Syaoran gestures and the name buries itself, deep into the recesses of his memory, where only a wizard wielding Clow’s magic could open it.

“Kimihiro,” Sakura says softly. “Good morning.”

He blinks sleepily at her, eyes blue and innocent. Sakura remembers meeting Clow Reed in a dream, or a memory of him. Those same blue eyes blink at her from the bed and it takes all her willpower not to freeze.

“Good morning, mother,” he says. “I had a strange dream. Another boy was yelling at me, not to disappear.”

Sakura manages to hide a shudder. She knows who that boy was, somehow.

“Hold on to that, for a moment,” Syaoran says behind her. “It’s too early for dream interpretation. After breakfast, tell me about it.”

After breakfast, Kimihiro would likely forget the dream. Sakura exhales a quiet sigh of relief. She is not one to run from confrontation, but she would need time to gather her strength to do it first.

“You’re not joining us for breakfast?” Syaoran asks her, recognizing the look in her eyes.

“I have to prepare,” she murmurs, eyes already distant. “If he is to survive, I have to prepare. You have started the first step, I’ll take care of the rest.”

.

* * *

 

.

Sakura spends the day making calls.

While she’s prominent in Hongkong for being the wife of Li Syaoran, she is well-known in her own right for being a powerful dreamseer. Syaoran’s expertise of wards, talismans and offensive magic ensures that they have enough connections all over the world.

Who Sakura contacts, however, are her old school friends in Japan. Her precognition had pointed her to the old, ratty address book and she’d obliged. (She may no longer have the Luck of the Gods, but she trusted her magic not to lead her astray.)

“Umi-san, good morning!” she greets as cheerfully as she can over the phone. “Do you remember me? I’m Sakura. Well, I was Kinomoto Sakura.”

Umi Ryuuzaki evidently does, judging by the pleasure in her voice. “Of course I do!” she says gleefully. She is as vivacious as always. “Sakura-chan! You’re Li Sakura now, aren’t you? It’s good to hear from you again. What’s up?”

That’s what she likes about Umi. Straight to the point and completely shameless about it.

“You know what I do for a living, don’t you?” she asks as a prelude. “My son, Kimihiro…in a few years, he’ll need your help.”

Given that Umi’s job is being an inheritance lawyer and most of the people she deals with are the deceased and their descendants, her sharp intake of breath is completely understandable.

“Sakura, are you ill?” she demands.

Sakura shakes her head, forgetting for a moment that she’s on the phone and Umi can’t see her.

“Ah, no. I just…I had a dream,” she says solemnly. “And I know…my Kimihiro, he will come to you so young.”

Umi is quiet for a moment, before she sighs. “Mou! If this is what I was signing up for when I agreed to be your friend, you could have warned me!” the tone of her voice is completely ridiculous and Sakura can’t help but laugh. “I’ll tell Fuu?” the lawyer continues, prodding.

“Ah, please,” Sakura agrees, thinking on the blonde girl and how kind she was. Her being a Social Worker for orphaned children was a really lovely coincidence ( _Hitsuzen_ ).

“Send me a picture of your Kimihiro,” Umi demands. “Gah! I hate it when you use that mystical, serious voice on me, Sakura.”

Sakura laughs again, imagining her face. “Of course. He just turned seven this year.”

Strangely, Umi just sighs and says quietly, “I’ll take care of him for you, Sakura. I’ll miss you.”

A lump forms in her throat at the sudden feeling of gratitude. Just three hours ago, she had been unsure of the little boy bearing an identical soul to her son. Now, having named him – hiding his true name and his soul in the process -  and contemplating his future, she knows she loves that boy to distraction. Just as much as she had loved her son.

“I’ll miss you too, Umi. Thank you.”

Lastly, she places a call for Yukito.

She arranges it so that she calls when Touya is not there and she manages to inform Yukito, as obliquely as possible without stating it outright, that her son might get into some trouble in a few years and to please take care of him?

Yukito, like all dreamseers Sakura has met, doesn’t ask unnecessary questions like Umi. He just says, “I’ll find him and take care of him for you.”

Sakura puts down a note to send him a picture, dithering for a bit, before putting a note at the back of the photograph that said, “Be careful of his name.”

Sakura puts down the phone and allows herself to crumble, just a little. Syaoran is doing his duty and teaching Kimihiro everything he would have taught their other son and more besides. Cooking and cleaning, while easier done with magic, is always better made with manual labor.

To her surprise, the phone rings.

Sakura _stares_ for a moment, taken aback by the sudden, shrill sound. She would say it is a coincidence that someone is calling her in her private line when she is in the office to hear it, but she knows better than that. ( _Hitsuzen_.)

She picks it up with some trepidation and then almost laughs when she hears the voice on the other end of the line.

“Good morning, Yuuko-san,” Sakura greets back.

The Witch of Dimensions’s husky voice murmurs, “Sakura-chan, so serious.”

Sakura lets out the giggle she had been holding back. The witch she had known had been serious, the memories she holds always held an air of professionalism. But just remembering Mokona and the pranks the little meatbun had done told her that outside of a professional setting was a woman who liked messing with people. (She thinks of Fai and knows both of them would have gotten along marvelously.)

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” she apologizes.

“A-ah,” the witch says in that tone of voice that always makes chills go up and down her spine. “The fractured memories just caught up, I see.”

Sakura’s breath caught. “Yes,” she chokes.

There is a sigh on the other end of the line and Sakura wants to weep. As awful as the hand fate had dealt the both of them, the witch had it worse. Sakura bites on her tongue to stop the apologies from coming out.

“He’ll be fine,” Yuuko says eventually. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The sobs that had been building up in her chest come out as a whimper. “The price?” she manages.

“Oh Sakura-chan,” the witch says sadly. “He’s a customer.”

A customer.

Sakura wants to cry, because there are a lot of reasons why one would become Yuuko’s customer, and it all boils down to desperation.

Duty, she reminds herself. “Thank you, Yuuko-san.”

“It is the least I could do, Sakura-chan.”

Vehemently, Sakura shakes her head. “No, Yuuko-san. You’ve already done so much! So really, thank you.”

“Such a sweet child,” Yuuko says fondly. Sakura could hear the smile in the witch’s voice this time, which is better than sad melancholy.

.

* * *

 

.

Syaoran takes one look at her face and holds her hand. If they were alone, he would embrace her.

“Mother, I made a cake for you! Father said you weren’t feeling well,” Kimihiro greets her, eyes sparkling hopefully.

Sakura’s smile comes more naturally this time. “Ah, what a lovely surprise! You made this, Kimihiro? Thank you!”

He blushes and smiles back, clearly pleased with her reaction.

“But this is so big and so delicious,” she adds with a hint of mischief. “I’ll need your help finishing this, dear one.”

Kimihiro tries to get out of eating the cake, insisting that it’s for her. But he’s no match for her, especially since she’s in the mood to be distracted.

So they eat the cake and laugh, Sakura allowing herself close her eyes from the darker visions coming to her.

.

* * *

 

.

The day it’s set to pass arrives and Sakura closes her eyes to enjoy what is surely the last sunshine she would feel in forever.

A set of footsteps sound at her right and she turns her head to look at her husband, her soulmate. Syaoran is holding an hourglass, a very familiar hourglass.

“Kimihiro is having a trip to Japan. He thinks it’s all grand and swell to stay with his uncles,” Syaoran sighs. “That boy’s enthusiasm is amazing.”

She manages a smile for him. “That is how children are. Are you prepared?”

“Yes. One last time,” he says. His brown eyes are fierce and determined. One last kiss, one last hug, the last they would feel.

Then they activate the magic deep in the blood and have faith with the rest of the people they entrusted their son to.

A wink, a surge of magic and all in place of where they stood is an hourglass.

For the breathe of one second, the world is quiet.

.

* * *

 

.

Touya receives a package in the mail and knows without doubt that he wouldn’t want to open it.

He opens it anyway, because the return address is his brat-sisters address and this would likely involve more magic foolery than he is comfortable with.

“That’s for Yuuko-san,” Yukito says from behind him, peeking over his shoulder. “Sakura-chan did call last month for something important, but she was being cryptic about it.”

With a sigh, Touya plucked the tape holding the brown box together. And stopped again.

A case of polished wood, the sort that hold really expensive heirlooms. It’s flat shape hints at one thing he knows that the Li’s have in abundance.

Upon opening it, he groans to Yukito. “Yuki, look. They sent me replica’s.”

Yukito’s dark eyes are intent on the wand and the sword. “No, Touya. Those are the real things.”

Unwittingly, Touya touches the wand and somehow, he just knows. Grief lances through him, as well as understanding. Sometimes, having untrained magic in his blood is such an inconvenience.

“Ah, Sakura. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Half of my mind always wondered what Sakura Li thought, looking at the other child.
> 
> I am also available in [tumblr](http://ladyhallen.tumblr.com) for any worldbuilding questions and prompts


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